


Scarlet Kiss

by whyntir



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abandonment, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Artistic Liberties Taken, Belarus-Centric (Hetalia), Cold War, Don't take this as a history lesson, F/M, Fall of the Soviet Union, Feels, Historical Hetalia, One-Sided Attraction, Pseudo-Incest, Selfish Promises, Serious, Sibling Incest, Sick Character, Sympathetic Belarus, There Are No Villains, dying character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 06:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4510875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyntir/pseuds/whyntir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She left once before, now, in his time of need, she promises to make it up to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scarlet Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> And older work of a pairing I have never written before or since.

" _Brother, I'm- . . ."_

" _Then go!" he suddenly shouted, fist slamming on the table. She watched him, almost regretting this decision, almost. She could see the pain he endured every time they took their things and left. The was he would longingly stare into now-empty rooms, or around the house, gazing so intently at nothing. Little by little the family of his house disappearing, leaving this manse and empty shell. Now, as she delayed to scrutinize the unusual bought of suppressed anger, in the dim light of the candles he had resorted to when money became tight, she could see diamonds falling from his dark eyelashes. He cried so silent . . . did he cry for every one of them?_

" _Brother . . ." Her hand reached out to him, hoping to comfort his pain, but stopped, hovering just inches away. Fingers slowly curled into a fist before her arm dropped to her side. If she comforted him, it would only be harder . . . for both of them. Still, her tears stung the normally icy blue eyes. Her voice a quivering whisper as she spoke, unsure if he could even hear her._

" _Good-bye."_

* * *

The house had once been so large, so beautiful. Everyone worked to maintain what they had, and while there where those times of fear, even anger, there had also been smiles. As she looked upon the decrepit home, the wood worn from the elements, no one bothering anymore, the curtains drawn and no smoke from the chimney, she felt a part of herself ache. After all, she had lived in this place.

_'Why did I come back here?'_  she berated herself, her weight on the porch steps causing them to groan in protest,  _'There is nothing here. No money to circulate, it's America who is rich.'_  Standing solidly before the door, the cold fall winds blew through her porcelain hair, feeling like fingers raking gently through the locks, a fatherly greeting from the general. That's right, this was her home.

_'To hell with his blood money.'_

Returning to the old wood door, scarred with an age that should never have affected it, an ominous depression lingering within. A gloved hand lingered above the knocker, doubts bombarded through her mind. Should she really do this? There had been so much sadness in this place, and it only looked worst. What was left here? Those foreign dewdrops that stung her eyes with salt pricked at the sensitive nerves, all resolve crumbling. This was what her house had come to.

Just as she was about to turn away and flee the cemetery that was once a home, the latch clicked heavily and the old pine creaked as it was pulled away. How long had it been closed? How long since a soul stepped outside. Whom she saw, however, was not at all the one she had expected.

Ice met embers in mutual surprise, neither expecting the other. Prussia stood on the threshold of the mansion, a duffel bag strap hanging on his shoulder, a dark gray hat over the snowy locks. Blinking twice to regain her senses, she faced him frontally, "I forgot, you are still here."

"Were," he spoke, neither greeting the other, and their eyes locking in that way that had always enraged her, but it had been so long since someone had looked into her eyes without fear or intimidation, even condescension. It was almost refreshing in the change alone. "He's not doing too good . . . he let me go."

"What does that mean, 'not doing too good'? That is hardly anything to go by," her tone was clipped, but she knew he could see the anxiety in her eyes, unable to hold it back.

His eyes looked dark, not emotionless, but resigned as he held her gaze, where she knew anyone else would have looked away. Even America had after he let some information slip about her brother. She would forever hold some respect for the old nation for his straight-forwardness. "He won't be here much longer. The Union is collapsing, and him with it. It can only get worst before it gets better." A frozen wind gust around them, though both numb from the inside out and did not respond. "You should go and see him."

"And," her voice faltered, sounding weaker than she would have ever allowed, "where will you go now Black Eagle? The Allies slayed you decades ago."

"Where my people wish to be. The wall is gone in spirit, so I'll see my brother. There may be talks of unifying."

Nodding as she bit the inside of her lip, she approached the door and he stepped to the side, granting her passage. Stopping for a moment as they stood side by side, looking straight ahead. She could see the furniture, some fallen on their sides, others broken, the rest having had no use for the past few years. Dust had collected on everything, and none of the lights were on, despite how dark it was. Wallpaper was peeling and cracked, the beauty now extinguished. "Are you happy this has happened?"

"I don't know," he responded, knowing exactly what she was talking about. "I just know he never meant anything. He just cracked a little, and one day we all will. We'll crack and crumble 'til there's nothing left."

Silence reigned a little longer before she dropped her head, lips moving softly before stepping inside and the door closing behind her. He stood for a moment, his own gaze unblinking as he stared at his boots. "Don't thank me," the albino murmured to the porch, "In the end, I left too."

* * *

Inside, she scanned the anomalous abode, unsure how to feel now that she ventured up the worn stairs. There was so much history here, so much culture and love. Her heart ached to see this, like looking into the very soul of her beloved brother and watching him decay before her eyes. Curtains from years she could vaguely recall hung dejected like condemned criminals, the rich carpets faded. It was such a large house, everyone had chores to do to keep it clean. With no one here and no one to care, it was hardly a wonder why it was in such a state of despair.

Turning the corner, all the doors were closed firmly, leading into the bedrooms. Their names were still on each door, from Romania and Bulgaria's quarters down the hall to herself and Ukraine. Almost tempted to look inside, when she tried a random knob, it refused to budge, having been locked tight as though he was keeping some part of them inside.

Then there was his room. Knocking twice as she opened the door, the room was lit by the warm glow of candles, as though electricity was too much. His bed was large, a canopy looming over the sickly frame tucked into the freshly washed blankets. This room looked the same as always, clean and well kept with not a single flaw in her memory, if not for the still figure sunk into the pillows.

"Gilbert?" the weak voice called softly, "I already relinquished custody of you. There is nothing-." A fit of coughing broke off his speech, twisting her heart violently as the unfamiliar prick of tears rose up once again. A choked gasp escaped her as she saw his eyes, glazed over and staring blankly, unseeing.

Swallowing her heart in her throat, she walked to his bedside, taking a seat in the chair beside him after removing her coat and gloves. Seeing him so thin, weak, small. Was this truly her big brother? Strong big brother who had cared for her and fought against Nazi Germany alone and won? Who was left to suffer and starve, fight and die while his allies used him to buy time, and still, he always called them  _friends_.

There was silence as the one before her blinked placidly, The great Soviet Union, calm despite where he was. "You're not Gilbert . . ."

Shaking her head, despite knowing he couldn't see, her hands reached out to his, resting on the covers, clutching onto him as though she could transfer her life. But she had hardly any more than him. Biting her lip, the hot tears fled their confines, down flushing cheeks to fall to their joined hands. Ivan's finger's twitched, his breath catching a moment as his eyes widened in surprise.

"Who . . .? Natalya?"

"Brother," her voice choked, dropping her head to rest against his chest as her body convulsed with silent sobs. Another hand wrapper around her shoulders, stroking her hair gently. "I-I'm so sorry . . . br-brother!" The cries would not stop as guilt wracked her body, the older nation softly hushing her, an attempt to calm her down.

"This is not your fault Natalya."

Looking up into his pale eyes, the fire and light behind them now extinguished and replaced with . . . nothing. Smouldering embers, a mockery of his former self, was all that remained. "I love you brother. I've always loved you!"

"I know."

Her grip tightened, knuckles turning white, but he didn't even flinch. "Brother . . . marry me?"

"Natalya," A small laugh escaped chapped lips that upturned in a gentle smile, cracking and splitting, dying the sensitive skin crimson. "There is nothing left to love. I'm dyi-."

"Let me be your wife, if only for this short time brother. Let me be here for your last days, so you'll no longer be alone. I'll always be here Ivan. I'll clean and cook, care for you like a dutiful wife. Just . . . please . . ." Her voice trailed off desperately, her eyes were begging, every muscle quivering. "Through sickness and in health, 'til death do us part: I do."

He remained silent for a while, his heart pounding slow, it frightened her with how weak it felt. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he whispered the next few words, Belarus having to tilt her head to hear them. "'Til death do us part."

_A promise sealed with a scarlet kiss._

**Author's Note:**

> My intention was not to have Ivan really fall in love with Belarus, rather I'd say he doesn't. He knows he's "dying" and so gives in to her. I think both are acting purely selfish, honestly. But I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
